"Thought he'd get a prize, did he?" said Weston, "for what?"
"For his architectural design," Crane answered. "He was working hard, and was hopeful. That's why I feel sure he never killed himself."
"Here are his designs," said Shelby, as he opened a big portfolio. "Why don't you take these, Mr. Crane, and take them home with you. They're really valuable."
"Of course they are,—I'll do that," agreed the older man. "Blair has a sister, somewhere out West. If anything comes of the drawings, it will be hers."
"Can you get in touch with his family?" asked Middleton.
"Don't know anything about them," Crane returned. "I suppose there must be letters or an address book or some such matters in Blair's desk. Thorpe may know more about it than I do."
"Thorpe may know a lot of things," suggested Weston. "Better get him up here, I say."
"All right," Benjamin Crane said, after a moment's pause. "He's down at my house,—I'll telephone him to come up here now."
But when connection was made it transpired that Thorpe had left the Crane house and nobody knew where he was.
"Looks bad," said Weston, shortly. "Why'd he run away?"